A Bloody Command
by Crimson MirrorGlass
Summary: A barren home. Two wounded wolves, thought to be dead rise and make an agreement. They near the one that ran from them long ago. It's just a question of which wolf will reach her first. Takes place right after the first movie and happens during the second.
1. Alpha

Disclaimer: Own nothing

Summary: A barren home. Two wounded wolves, thought to be dead rise and make an agreement. They near the one that ran from them long ago. It's just a question of which wolf will reach her first. Takes place right after the first movie and happens during the second.

 **Note: A lot of one of the character's thoughts here are inspired by anenko's "Knotted" on Archive of Our Own, so I owe a lot of this first chapter to that fic.**

 **A Bloody Command:**

 **Chapter One: Alpha**

A gouge across a blood soaked throat began sew itself back together. Blood, muscle and flesh began to gather back against each other. Slowly, the impressive bite wound on the young man's neck would heal completely. The gruesome holes in the shape of fangs lining across his throat began to disappear, the meat beneath clumping together. Gradually, he lifted his head, groaning in pain. The world spun around him beneath the stairs as he tried to make sense of where he was. He knew he might be able to focus better without feeling like something had just ripped his throat out.

At that thought, he froze. Wait, hadn't something?

Through the agony of the still excruciating but recovering wound, he tried to think. The horrified look on the girl's face as she watched….something…

Sam stopped moving. Wait, the girl….Brigitte. And what had attacked him? Sam realized he knew in the back of his mind.

 _Lycanthrop._

No, not _just_ a lycanthrop, though, right? The beast had been more. At least to Brigette it had been. A coy smile on a changing face, with pointed teeth, terrifying silver-blue eyes, framed by white hair once the color of fire.

"Ginger." He hissed out. The name sent another jolt of both pain and resentment through him. Bitch had ripped his throat out. Right.

Somehow he found himself standing. He stumbled along the hall, observing the damage done. Parts of the wooden walls had been ripped apart, the bannister was in ruins. A pool of blood, Sam realized-his own, was starting to run towards another room far ahead.

There was something else. He smelled two other scents besides his. It felt like a stream of essence wafting through his system. He wasn't sure how to describe it. How did you describe being able to smell every single aspect of a fucking scent anyway?

Well, one at least smelled like spices. Like overpowering flavors that could burn you alive. The other…smelled soothing….almost like chocolate or close to coffee or something. The spicy scent resided. It was still there, like fresh paint on the walls. It melded with the stink of blood. The other one-the coffee or chocolate aroma wasn't lasting. It was fading-like it was the memory of a fragrance.

One more sense kicked in. He heard something.

It sounded like the scratching of claws on wood and growling. There was something else too. The stench of blood-not his, filled the room he was about to walk into. The rank smell between both his spreading blood and from whatever it was in that room, made saliva start to flood in his mouth. It took him a moment to understand that that was what was happening, before trying to shake himself. Was he salivating over blood and wounded flesh?

He stopped just when he was about to reach the room's closed door. He saw shadows of movement beneath the crack of the door, but didn't pay attention. He slowly brought his left hand to his mouth, fingertips grazing over his teeth.

Four of them. Four pointed teeth. Sharp as blades.

"Oh fuck!" He hissed, stepping away from the door, hand ripping from his mouth. He was infected. Ginger had fucking infected him! And he was enjoying the scent of blood. Fuck. He was so fucked. He needed monkswood. He needed it now

That movement he had heard before seemed to stop. Sam lifted his head, looking at the door. There was a sudden rapid movement that sounded like thunder to Sam's new improved ears, and a dark growl and the door was smashed open.

The door slammed against the wall, splinters firing off of it on impact. What stood in the doorway should have terrified Sam, should have made him want to run, but he already felt the urge to fight-to rip the other beast's throat out.

Ginger stood half bent. Muzzle between a wolf's snout and her own once heart-shaped face, silver fur now becoming hair, haunches almost like legs now. Rough grey skin beginning to turn pink. She had just transformed into a wolf. She didn't have any clothes to speak of.

As the wolf snout started to recede, a voice growled out of the macabre figure, sounding like a demon, "What are you doing here? I thought you were fucking dead."

Sam was about to snarl back when he noticed the healing wound at Ginger's left side. It looked like a stab wound or something. Sam narrowed his eyes. Why would Ginger have a stab wound…it suddenly clicked.

"Brigitte!" He exclaimed, stunned, receiving a hateful glower from the female wolf. Out of all the scenarios Sam imagined, Brigitte stabbing her sister was not one of them. Brigitte seemed more than anything, trying to save her sister. He had suggested killing Ginger, but he never thought Brigitte would actually try it. "Fuck you, Sam," Ginger snarled, stepping forward.

Sam knew the normal and natural thing to do was step back and show pure terror. But the growling and baying wolf beckoned him to fight back. To challenge this wolf and show his dominance. He snarled back and tried to lunge till Ginger threw out a powerful right clawed hand, slamming into his chest, throwing the young man feet back into the hallway, on his back hard, bringing a dog-like whimper from the dark-haired Lycan.

"This is your fault, you piece of shit," She hissed, walking out of the doorway, "She stabbed me because of you. She would never have left me. It's your fault."

Sam reeled in rage, fangs grinding together as he snapped back up to his feet, feeling the power surge through him. He felt incredible. He felt like he could take on anyone, anything. He felt like he could get hit by a speeding train and survive, he felt like he could take on at least three polar bears and wreck them to shreds, he felt like he could climb to the top of Mount Everest and scream at the top of his lungs. He was a beast. No one challenged him.

He faced Ginger, lips curled back, eyes a blazing red, face a nightmare. His muscles tightened like the string of a bow about to fire an arrow. He charged, chest out, teeth bared at the female.

However, he was about to learn that he didn't know what he was messing with.

Ginger grinned, fangs out. "Down, boy." She sneered, right hand gliding up, claws slashing across his throat, blood spilling out again. A pained howl let itself loose from Sam's throat as he staggered from the blow. Almost immediately though, his skin began to sew itself up again. Muscle gathered together and regenerated. But Sam was disoriented from the blow and that was all Ginger needed.

She stomped over to Sam, thrusting her right knee up hard into his chin, snapping his head back with a sickening 'crack!' She shot her left clawed hand out this time, claws raking across his face, splitting the flesh open in five garish marks down from his forehead to his chin. Sam careened into the side of the wooden wall, whimpering like an animal.

"Know your place, pup," Ginger growled, her forehead and chin, once ashen and marred with protrusions of fleshy crevices and rough grey patches began sliding back into smooth, pink skin, "I'm stronger than you. I always will be. I've always been stronger than everyone else in this pathetic little town."

She looked down at her abdomen. The wound was gone. It had receded to nothing. Now all that remained was a round mark and a brown-crimson bloodstain. She also saw that she was quite naked. She snorted. She figured she shouldn't be entirely surprised by that. When she transformed, her bones and limbs went through the clothing. She snapped her head towards Sam when she heard shattering of wood beside her. The enraged Sam jumped back up, dark bangs wild around his feral, slashed up face that was already healing. He snarled again, lunging.

Ginger rolled her eyes. Finally losing patience, she snapped her right hand out, claws bared. Two sharp fingers buried themselves deep into Sam's crimson eyes. She gouged his eyes out, thick, vermilion liquid spurting out of his sockets, soaking her digits. As Sam howled, sounding more like a wolf than any that Ginger had heard in videos, the commanding female grinned at the exquisite pleasure that exploded within her at the scent of fresh blood pouring out of those two areas of the male's body.

She stiffened, fingers still clawing though. Why was she thinking of Sam as a "male" instead of just Sam? Oh right, she was a wolf.

She growled thrusting her arm again and discarded the writhing male to the floor again. Alabaster teeth like knives bared, she jumped off the floor, landing feet first on Sam's chest, herculean legs, slamming into his ribs-a horrific crunching noise filling the air. "That's enough!" She spat down at him, opening her maw wide and her nude form swooped down, teeth biting hard into his left shoulder, ripping a chunk of it out and spitting it out onto the floor in bloody mess.

Sam's cries and writhing earned a look of disgust from her and she jumped off him, scowling down at him. He slowly and in agony got up off the ground, whimpering. Whatever his injuries, she could see and _smell_ that he was healing very quickly.

She didn't care though. The naked werewolf spat out, flecks of blood and strings of spittle descending as she demanded answers from the male, "Where's Brigitte?! Where is she, you piece of shit?!"

Sam's eyeless face turned towards her, fangs shining in his rage. Ginger scowled, walking over. Her right leg, wielded like a swinging sledgehammer slammed into his lower jaw. His head was thrown back and his already damaged body crashed into the wall again, this time sending him _through_ it. "WHERE?" Ginger bellowed this time, the whole structure shook with the wolf's baleful warning, "Where is my sister, pup?! What did you do to her?!"

Ginger started charging and upon hearing the floorboards crack as she neared, real terror seeped into Sam, realizing he was dead meat. And now he was blind. He couldn't fucking see. All the fearsome instincts that had kept him strong not but two minutes ago shriveled up and receded to the corner of his now primal brain. Now, those instincts were telling him to do the opposite. As the female towered over him, he rolled over, showing his belly and broken chest.

He let out a whimper, not sure what else to do. Ginger stopped her attack, releasing a hiss as she leered down at him, left foot pressing on his throat, applying enough pressure to choke him.

"You submit?" She sneered, pressing hard in warning.

Sam gagged, the agonizing pain from his eye sockets making him writhe more. He knew he had to submit. He wasn't an expert on wolves, but he knew that if he didn't submit, he was going to die in a really unpleasant way. And he knew the basics. Clearly Ginger was the alpha.

If the alpha wasn't obeyed, it wasn't hard to guess what would happen.

"Yes." He whimpered, grinding the words out through the aching throughout his body and face-"I submit, Ginger."

Instantly, the foot removed itself from his throat and the oxygen spilled back in. He gasped, back bowing backwards as his shaking hands went to his burning face, a sea of blackness all that was in his former vision.

"Now," Ginger snarled, "Answer the question. Where's Brigitte?"

"I don't know. I don't know." Sam groaned out, daggers shooting through his face as it slowly regenerated, tendrils of fire curled around and around in his almost empty sockets. The flesh of his eyes began to return bit by bit-the excruciating burn of something constantly pulsing in both sockets continuing nonstop.

"I don't know," He said a third time, barely able to manage the words out, "I haven't seen her. Certainly can't see her _now_. But I think I smell her."

"Yes," Ginger growled, stepping back, looking back at her and Brigitte's room in thought, "I smell two scents besides mine. One _has_ to be yours. It stinks of weed." The sneer in her voice was unmistakable, even as Sam still was curled up, whimpering, "But I smell another one. It's old though. It has to be Brigitte's." She turned back to Sam. "You haven't seen her?"

"No." Sam groaned out, barely able to stand up, still gripping his face, "I smell that scent too. It's faded. She must have left a while ago. I haven't seen her since you ripped my throat out." He ended his voice with more anger than he should have and he was answered with a harsh grip on his left shoulder, his body sent flying through the air, smashing into the stairs. The wooden planks shattered under him as he fell through.

"Shut your mouth." She spat at him, "You were in the way. You separated us. She never would have stabbed me if it wasn't for you!" There was loud movement and Sam realized that Ginger was stomping forward again and terror started rattling him as he was sure she would start beating him again, but she stopped, inches from the decimated staircase.

"You're going to help me find her." Ginger commanded, voice sounding like the condemning sentencing passed by a judge, "You are coming with me now, and we're going to find her. You're going to do it because you've fucked up our lives enough."

Finally, those words got a rise out of Sam. Almost forgetting that this was the Lycan that carved his eyes out not but a few minutes ago, his anger kindled again. " _I_ did?!" He demanded, snapping his body up from the wooden rubble, "You've been nothing but fucking stubborn since I met you two! And nothing but trouble!" At last, some of his vision was returning-one of his eyes was growing back. In his blurry, nearly scarlet vision, he could make out Ginger's subhuman, bare form, crowned with snow-white hair.

"If you had just let me help you, maybe she wouldn't have had to fucking stab you!" He spat, forgetting the pain riding all through his body or the lingering terror of the creature in front of him, "You were going to kill her just because she wouldn't help tear my throat out!"

"Kill her?!" Ginger snarled, eyes widening as she stepped close, teeth inches from Sam's face, another lightning bolt of fear shooting him as a result, "I wasn't going to kill her. I was just trying to bite her. I wanted the transformation to happen faster. I wanted her to be like me. I wanted us to be a pack! Sisters, like before!" Sam felt the wolf in him shudder at the alpha's fury, but was able to mount up shreds of courage to speak again, "You never stopped being sisters. Brigitte never left your side. I said that we should just take the syringe and go, Brigitte refused! She was never going to leave you! You're just paranoid. We need monkswood, Ginger. Let me find the syringe that I gave to Brigitte. Where is it?"

"Oh, that?" A dark smirk covered Ginger's face, instantly making Sam apprehensive, "I destroyed it. I crushed it as soon as I woke up in there." She nodded towards the room, "Brigitte dropped it in the struggle and I found it and got rid of that shit."

Sam processed the words, not believing them. God, Ginger really was fucked up. She wasn't even trying to be human anymore. "Are you out of your fucking mind, Ginger?!" He nearly screamed, "That's our only chance to be human again!"

Another warning growl and what little courage Sam might have had, disintegrated in a heartbeat. "You think I care about being human anymore? Fuck you and fuck the monkswood shit." Ginger stepped even closer and Sam could smell the overpowering spices flowing off her to mix with the putrid blood scent that should have disgusted him, "You will help me track her down," Ginger ordered, "We'll find her. And understand, Sam, she's _mine_. She always will be, even if she doesn't want to admit it. She's mine. She belongs to me. She already has the infection in her blood from that cut. She is mine and always has been."

Sam shivered. The wolf that existed in him immediately cowered away. He didn't know what it was, but the wolf did. There was something in Ginger's cold demands that wrung primal. No-no, he knew what Ginger was saying, but he wasn't sure he could wrap his mind around it. He didn't want to accept it. He knew what Ginger felt for Brigitte. He was in denial for it. For a long time he had been, but Ginger's gradual transformation did nothing to ebb away her clear want for her sister.

He had only met Ginger once before she tried to kill him-bearing the same ashen hair she had now, but one look at Brigitte had told him everything. Ginger _wanted_ Brigitte. And there was no stupid school-boy crush about it. It was pure want and need. It was a terrifying thing to realize, but it was true. Why else would Ginger have wanted him dead when she thought that he wanted to get into Brigitte's pants?

Just an older sister being overprotective? No, it wasn't that and Sam knew it. And he was pretty damn sure Ginger knew too. The only one that didn't know was Brigitte. There was no way she could know. If she did, Sam knew she'd have been far more distressed than she already was.

No one, no one could act calm about something like that.

Sam knew he shouldn't say it. It was just saying the obvious and it was tempting fate. Tempting it far too much. He was not the alpha. Ginger was. She would kill him if she thought he was out of line.

But the words came out anyway as the vision returned in both of his re-growing eyes, "Are you in love with your sister?"

It was too late to take the question back. As much as he knew, as soon as he said it, he'd regret it, it was too late now.

The cat or wolf in this case, was out of the bag. At those narrowed, eerie blue-grey eyes, Sam wish he could have shut himself up before asking the question. So he knew he shouldn't be so surprised by Ginger's next words, "This a fantasy of yours, perv?"

Sam felt his teeth grind at the question, sure that if he had fur like he was more than likely going to in a few months it would be bristling by now. The question was well deserved, given the context of what he had asked, it didn't make him any less angry to be called that.

"Oh come on," He snapped, "I've seen how you look at her. You're telling me all sisters act like that? Bullshit!"

Another low growl was released from Ginger, alerting Sam that he had crossed another line. He had no time to react when she pushed forward again, right hand slamming against his chest, propelling him back into the wall again, demolishing it as his descending body had the stairs.

"Know. Your. Fucking! Place. Pup." Ginger sneered. She started looking around, finding some scattered clothes over the floor of her and Brigitte's room. "We're going to find her. You're going to help me because you're weak. I own you, Sam." She spat, daring the injured wolf to defy her, "You will obey me. We'll find Brigitte. And then I'll decide what to do with you."

Sam lifted his scratched up head, blood soaked eyes fixed on her as she smirked, tendrils of ivory hair falling to her bare breasts. "And if you even _think_ about trying to run away, pup," she sneered, "I'll break your legs."

She turned and went to get some clothes. Sam sucked in a breath, trying to regain some control of his throbbing body. The wind was all but knocked out of him; his eyes, face and sides were sore. It felt like a wrecking ball had plowed through all his ribs and the wolf in his mind was still whimpering in fear at its alpha.

And now they were going to track Brigitte down. God knows what Ginger was going to do to her when they found her.

Well, this was fucked up.

Sam made the decision, despite what his wolf instincts were telling him. If he had to do at least one good thing in his life-no matter how much the wolf in him was telling him to submit for his own survival, he knew that when they found Brigitte, he had to help her escape from her sister. He had to. She was infected with Ginger's blood. He had to find monkswood and get it to Brigitte. Wolf instincts be fucked to hell.

 **So, as said before, Sam's thoughts are partly inspired by anenko's "Knotted."**

 **So good news, Sam and Ginger are both alive. Bad news? Sam's under Ginger's thumb right now and they're after Brigitte. This will not be a one-shot.**

 **Keep in mind, this will _not_ be a GingerxSam fic. **


	2. Mother

**Chapter 2: Mother**

Hours later, both Lycans were hydrated. They had gulped down gallons of water. Almost two days of needing to heal and not drinking any water would do that to you.

Ginger dropped the blue coat over her shoulders, the end snapping at the back of her legs. She glowered at Sam who buttoned up his jacket, obscuring the bloodstains covering his shirt and the rips from any prying eyes. She had chosen a dark red, deep dipping V-neck, her bird's skull necklace that matched Brigitte's hung from her neck. She was sporting a scarlet leather skirt that barely covered her crotch and high black satin stockings.

Her white hair had some streaks of orange in it. Maybe Sam was imagining it, but it looked like it was returning to the color it was before gradually. Her eyes started turning bright blue as well-stopped looking so soulless.

"I didn't think Lycans could turn back." He said quietly, sliding his eyes to the entrance of the house where his yellow-needless to say, damaged and battered van stood, floor splattered trunk open and exposed to any that looked at it. He glanced back at Ginger, a dark smile gracing his lips as he eyed the skirt, "A little chilly down there?"

Ginger snorted, strutting towards the door, "Don't bullshit me, stoner. I'm a werewolf. I don't feel cold ever. This is fucking incredible. Speaking of looks," She smirked, "you might want to check your eyes out." Sam froze, glaring hatefully. His eyeballs and vision had healed up completely. The whole of both his eyes were back and he could see again in both eyes. They both still hurt like a _bitch_ though, and it was enough to make him want to throttle Ginger, despite his submission to her.

Noticing his anger, she chuckled, "Get over it, Sammie. And I didn't mean that. The color. Check out the color, genius."

Sam quirked an eyebrow. But thinking about the silver-blue eyes that Ginger had had a few minutes ago before transforming back to "normal," (was there such a thing as normal for Ginger?) and walked further inside the house, over to the bathroom where he had pissed out a pool of blood from his genitals after drinking all that water. Ginger had had big laugh at that.

Sam looked at his eyes in the mirror, almost having a heart attack. "What the fuck?!" He grunted, nearly jumping back from the mirror. Looking right back at him were two fresh blood colored orbs.

A harsh laugh was heard behind him, "Yeah, wicked, huh? Love to see anyone try to get your drugs off you with a pair of peepers like those."

Sam turned and stared at the smirking Lycan woman. She nodded towards the van uncaringly. "Are we gonna go, or what?" She quipped, walking passed him. Sam sucked in a breath, taking one last look at his demonic red eyes before following his alpha out of the house.

When he got to the cab of the van, he pulled open the glove compartment and whipped out a black baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses, jamming the cap, bill forward over his forehead, and slipping the glasses on.

Ginger watched him go around the van, closing the back doors hard, then walking over to the driver's seat. "If I'm going to drive us," He said, taking hold of the wheel, pulling a bunch of keys from his pocket that had blood flecks all over it, "I better hide my eyes. Let's go."

Ginger nodded, jumping up into the seat next to him. "Get moving, dumbass," She said, leaning back against the seat lazily, "B still has at least a few good days ahead of us. Her smell's barely there anymore. You smell it too, right? It's in that direction." She waved her left hand towards the left side of the road and Sam nodded, starting the car up. "We need a plan, you know?" He said, saying it slowly as if that should have been obvious to Ginger long ago, "We need to find out where she's gone. She might not even be in Baily Downs anymore. I know I constantly thought about getting out of here."

Ginger rolled her eyes, "Then what stopped you? You had a van and money from drugs and are an adult. You could've left. Stop moaning, start driving. We'll check around town. See if we can find her. If not, she's probably left." Sam cautiously looked at the red and white haired woman. "Have any idea where she might have gone?" He ventured, reaching for the stick to move the van backwards.

Ginger shrugged, "We sometimes talked about where we would go before fulfilling the pact." Sam put his foot on the brake, giving Ginger a genuinely confused look. "What?" Ginger asked, wrinkling her nose before understanding flashed across her eyes. "Oh shit, B didn't tell you?" She smirked again, "I really thought the two of you were close. See, here's the thing, Sammie, B and I had a pact we made when I was eight and B was seven. We were so close we decided we would be together forever," Sam pressed his lips together, not liking where this was going, given the morbid nature of the Fitzgerald sisters.

"We decided," Ginger continued, look up ahead through the windshield, "That we'd be 'out by sixteen or dead in the scene, together forever.'" Ginger turned to the horrified expression of Sam, "You get it, little boy? You have nothing on us."

Sam shook himself, disgust still marring his face. "You two seriously need help." He grumbled, backing out of the driveway.

Ignoring the chuckle he received from the alpha, Sam looked in his rearview mirror, almost getting a heart attack when another car, a dark blue minivan drove up and parked with a harsh shriek, forcing both Lycans to growl and jump, turning to look out their windows.

"What the fuck?" Sam asked, panicking.

"Oh, are you _kidding_ me?" Ginger groaned in disbelief, "Pamela?!"

"Pamela? Who-?" Sam looked from Ginger to the minivan with utter confusion. Ginger seethed, "My mom. B and my mom. Dammit. Of all people to show up. This is such a bad time."

She checked, keeping her head low so the dimwitted woman in the minivan didn't see her.

The engine in the minivan was shut off and Pamela got out, heading towards the van. "Shit." Both Sam and Ginger grumbled.

Pamela reached the window of Sam's seat, looking in. She stood, that ever-present concerned look on her face. Seeing Sam, she hiding his face behind the sunglasses, she said, cautious, and honestly disturbed at his shady appearance, "Sir, what are you doing in my parking lot? At two o'clock in the morning?" She stared and Sam sat frozen, unsure how he should have reacted. He was wearing a cap and sunglasses, not exactly the most innocent appearance. He thought about smiling to reassure her, but muscled down that thought. The last thing she needed to see was a flash of his fangs.

"Um, ma'am," He said in a voice he knew was incredibly uncharacteristic of him, "I just got turned around and pulled into your driveway to turn around and go to where I need to. I'm just a little lost, you see?"

Pamela nodded, though she seemed apprehensive. "Okay." She began, lip turning in that nervous way Ginger recognized so well, "Where exactly are you hea-" Pamela stopped talking when her eyes lowered to who was leaning down in the seat next to Sam. The slouched, ducking figure, though half obscured by her ashen mane streaked with fiery tendrils, Pamela made out the shape of the face enough, even with the poor light. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, a mother's hope and desperation knew no bounds.

"Ginger?!" Pamela exclaimed, almost crying out louder than she had ever in her life.

Ginger flinched at her mother's tone. Damn. She swung herself up and turned, grinning wide at Pamela, fangs flashing, blue-white eyes vivid. "Yeah, Pamela?" She mocked. Mortification embodied crossed Pamela's face as she saw the appearance of her offspring. It was only then that Ginger noticed her mother holding a plastic container in her hands. A plastic container that immediately fell out of Pamela's trembling fingers and dropped to the sidewalk with a "thunk."

"Ginger?" Pamela repeated, voice small.

Ginger cocked her head, white and fiery hair cascading down her left shoulder as she grinned, "What's the matter, Pamela? Scared, are we?"

Sam practically moaned. Great. Just fucking great. "Ginger." He tried to reason but a dark chortle was the only response he received, "Ginger what, Sam? Might as well let her know what kind of a freak she has for a daughter. Sorry to rain on your perfect little world, mom, but I'm not human," Ginger leaned over Sam, grinning face getting dangerously close to the open window and the petrified woman behind it, "I haven't been for a while. And you might have known it if you weren't such an idiot. Say hello to your werewolf daughter, Pam."

Pamela's face had lost all color; her brown eyes were huge, her lower jaw trembled.

"Alright, alright." Sam snapped, opening his door, making Pamela back away fast, eyes never leaving the two Lycans. Sam jumped out of the van, watching as Pamela shook. "Okay," He began, trying to keep the panic out of his voice (unsuccessfully), "Ginger, she's got it. She's got the picture." He turned to the trembling woman, whose gaze kept shooting from him to the still chuckling Ginger who was getting out of his van, "Listen, Ma'am," He knew how corny he was about to sound, but it was really, really necessary when trying to hide one's Lycan identity, "Please just calm down. We're not going to hurt you."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that." Ginger laughed, leaning back against the van, teeth bared in a monstrous grin. Sam swung his head around to stare at his alpha through the sunglasses. How far gone was Ginger? Had she been a monster her whole life? Was there any chance she'd kill her own mother? The question was would Ginger kill Pamela? The thought seemed unimaginable. Despite all his problems with his parents, especially his father, he could never imagine killing them.

"Ging….Ginger?" Pamela finally spoke, sounding almost squeaky. Sam turned back to her. "Ginger?" The ghostly pale woman repeated, "Is that really you? My baby? My little girl?"

Ginger snorted, "Not such a little girl anymore. Sorry, Pamela, but the two girls you've obsessed over and think are so perfect don't exist. Sorry to make your little delusional world shatter to pieces, but I'm not human anymore and Brigitte has flown the coop."

Pamela shook, looking like she was about to faint. Her huge brown eyes suddenly narrowed slightly. "Brigitte?" She managed out, voice cracking, "Where's Brigitte?" Ginger cackled, "Hear that, Sam? Through all that, when I've just told her I'm not human, the only thing she gets out of that is that Brigitte isn't here anymore." Her face turned to a grimace, "Well no, Pamela. Brigitte ain't here. She ran off after she _stabbed_ me."

Pamela now looked completely baffled as well as stricken. "Wha…..wh-what?" Pamela stammered out, eyes panicked and flashing down to Ginger's body, checking it up and down. "She stabbed you?!"

Ginger shrugged, smirking, "Yep. I guess I'm being too much of a bitch. I _was_ trying to bite her. But she stabbed me and now she's gone. And now," Her grin became huge again, "Sorry, Pamela but your girls are both werewolves. Brigitte got some of my blood in veins before she took off. She's infected now."

Pamela's utter befuddlement quickly was aided by Sam, realizing that nothing would help this situation that Ginger had put them in without some information added. "Okay," He began, "Ginger was bitten by a Lycan; a werewolf and Brigitte has her blood now," He added hesitantly, swallowing, "I was bitten by Ginger. I'm a werewolf too."

Pamela stared at them both, horror all across her face. Sam and he was sure Ginger too, could hear Pamela's thundering, terrified heartbeat. She then stared at Ginger, taking in her oldest child's appearance. "You're a werewolf?" She asked, her voice almost sounding like a laugh, Sam was guessing because of just how preposterous the situation was, "An actual werewolf? Like in the movies?"

Ginger rolled her blue-silver eyes, "Werewolf, sure, like in the movies? Nah. Silver doesn't do shit. And do you see a fucking full moon around here? Besides, that stab wound Brigitte gave me? It almost killed me. But I healed. But yeah, Pam, your kids are monsters now." Ginger turned her head to the plastic container where she smelled the cold residue of blood. The blue cap of the container had popped off on impact with the sidewalk. Some of what was inside revealed itself. Ginger narrowed her eyes. She recognized what it was. Fingers. Two severed fingers. Trina's severed fingers.

Ginger brought her head back up and grinned at the frightened Pamela, "But from the looks of it, you already knew that."

Pamela still looked like she was about to faint, like there was no blood left in her body, but she impressed Sam at that moment when she took a deep breath and took a step forward. She kept moving and Sam didn't have to turn to look at his alpha to know that Ginger was startled. He could hear her step back.

Pamela kept moving, despite now knowing that there were two werewolves standing in front of her-two creatures that could potentially kill her in one swipe. She reached a trembling right hand up, slowly placing it against Ginger's pale cheek, causing a shocked look to cross Ginger's face.

"My baby," Pamela whispered in a soothing voice, "You're not a monster. Neither you or Brigitte are. You're not monsters. You're my little girls, and you always will be."

In the history of Lycans, Sam was positive that no one had ever made two werewolves as shocked as Pamela had just made him and Ginger.

Ginger's eyes went wide and for a second, Sam was almost sure he saw a flash of vulnerability on the alpha's face before she forced her expression to become neutral. Before either Sam or Ginger could say anything else, Pamela turned to the plastic container with the severed fingers, scooped it up and faced them again, "We should get inside. Don't let anyone see or hear you, right?"

She took Ginger's claw covered hand in her free fragile, human one and started leading the white-haired Lycan to the house.

The stunned Ginger followed and so did Sam after locking his van up.

Once they were inside, Pamela put the container of fingers back into the freezer. She walked over to the couch, sitting down. Sam and Ginger both noticed how stiffly she moved and the remaining shock on her expression. So it looked like she was still recovering from what she had heard.

Once seated, she looked up at Ginger. "Where's your sister?" She mumbled, eyes glossed over by confusion. Ginger growled, "Do you think I would still be here if I knew that? I'd be on her trail fast. We don't know where she is. I think she left a few days ago. We were just about to check where she might have gone. But I think she's left town. We could track her because our sense of smell is wicked good." Ginger grinned wryly.

Pamela nodded, though Sam wondered if she really was able to absorb any of this.

"You'll help us find her, right, mom?" Ginger asked, cocking her head and making her voice nearly sweet as chocolate. Sam blinked, stunned. He turned and stared at the white-haired wolf, wondering how she pulled that off. Pamela's shell-shocked look seemed to fade and she nodded again, this time looking determined.

"We'll find Brigitte, sweetie," She said, smiling in adoration at her older daughter, "But first, we need to get rid of the evidence about that girl." Sam stepped back, eyebrows narrowing. Girl? What girl? What evidence?

"Girl?" Ginger voiced his thoughts before her voice lowered, "You mean Trina?"

Sam swung his head to stare at the amused alpha.

Pamela said from the couch, sounding tired, "Is that what her name was? Yes. We need to burn the house and the shed down so no one finds her body. No one will find out what you and Brigitte did. I'll destroy everything in this house and the shed and everything I own before anyone knows."

Sam turned and stared at the woman on the couch. Wait, Trina was dead? It more than likely had to do with Ginger. And her mom was covering it up. What the fuck kind of house did Ginger and Brigitte grow up in?! No wonder they were so messed up.

Ginger chuckled next to him and he looked at her, noticing her grinning at him. "What's the matter, Sammie? Scared?" She turned back to Pamela, "Good idea. What about Henry, though?"

Pamela shook her head, "No, Henry won't understand. He's a man. Men would never understand what we have to live with." Her eyes then found Sam and watched him suspiciously.

Sam, despite being a Lycan, suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Oh, him?" Ginger sneered, nodding to Sam, "Don't worry about it. He's like me. He's in the same situation. If I get caught, so does he. Besides, he's part of my pack or something like that."

Sam knew he should feel repulsed at being associated with as part of Ginger's "pack," but he wasn't. If anything, when he heard that, an odd warmth spread through his chest. He wondered what it was before the wolf in his mind seemed to let out whimpers of excitement. Oh.

Damn wolf instincts. The wolf in him was just happy to be part of a pack. It didn't matter who the alpha was. Wolves were by nature pack animals. His wolf was too pleased to know that it was acknowledged as the alpha's pack to think about the consequences. Then again, he was the one that was worried about how this would all play out, not the wolf.

He swallowed as Pamela got up and started talking about getting the gasoline to burn the house down. Dammit; this was going to be a crazy next few weeks, he knew it.


End file.
